Stalking in the Alley - 15

(You used to be a man, didn't you?)

"Yes."

My mouth moved on its own, smooth and natural, without any say from me. It felt like my heart plummeted straight through the floor. This was the secret I had wanted, more than anything, to keep buried.

I had already accepted, privately, that I had become a woman—but from the standpoint of the one violating me, it was a secret that could very justifiably be found repulsive. Worse, the other party was a monster: a being with inhuman strength, one that would vanish in a flash under the pretense of "break time" only to reappear without warning. Something that wasn't human at all. Which made it all the more terrifying.

If the reason she had looked on me kindly all this while was simply that I was a 'woman,' then that goodwill would turn to malice in its entirety. A monster wielding Crystal—an ability that could justly be called reality manipulation—would have endless ways to keep me alive and torment me rather than kill me. I wouldn't be condemned to be an eternal sexual plaything. I could end up an eternal torture victim instead.

(Ahahahahaha! I knew it! I was right!)

But the reaction was nothing like what I'd expected. Not rage, not contempt—just the pure, giddy delight of a child whose guess had proven correct.

"Doesn't it disgust you? That I used to be a man?"

Maybe it was because her reaction was so far beyond anything I'd anticipated that the question slipped out—a genuinely innocent question. Hiding it wouldn't do me any good anyway, so I just let it out. At the very least, I had to understand why she was reacting like this.

(So it wasn't an attempt to stall for time—you really are curious. I'm in a good mood, so I'll explain briefly.)

(Forty-two liters of water, twelve kilograms of protein, fifteen kilograms of fat, two kilograms of calcium, two hundred and fifty grams of salt, two hundred grams of amino acids, plus assorted other components that barely amount to a few grams.)

(That is the composition of a seventy-kilogram adult male. A human being is simply that composition with a few of the elements swapped out.)

(In a world overflowing with ways to reshape one's appearance, do you really think such things matter? External trappings—gender, looks—can be changed as easily as breathing.)

(Of course, without currency they matter very much. Appearance is worth exactly as much as you pay for it.)

(But not to me. Because I can remake my exterior however I please, I prize what's inside all the more.)

(For monsters especially, the inside—emotions, to be precise—matters far more. Emotions are a monster's staple diet.)

(In fact, I prefer a man turned woman—or the reverse—to any ordinary man or woman. The emotions are rarer, richer, more delicious. For a human, it would be like a rare delicacy.)

(Which is why I simply cannot wait to devour your emotions after I win!)

I understood, roughly. Since appearance could be remade to one's taste through abilities or other means, the inside mattered more, she said. A being carrying the imbalance of a TS transformation apparently seasoned a monster's feast with unfamiliar emotions. And since I satisfied both the appearance and the imbalance, I was all the more appetizing for it.

(Curious how I knew? As it happens, the evidence was plentiful.)

(The way you held out in situations where any woman would have folded—not through iron willpower, but by means of something else entirely. The way your face crumpled, as though your pride itself had been wounded, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠when you were about to be violated. The sudden bouts of something like manic depression.)

(My intuition, which has seen men turned into women before, was whispering to me the whole time. That you had once been a man.)

(I'd love to keep talking, but we're short on time. A minute has already passed.)

(I need to drain the strength from your legs so you can't run. I got so excited I'd forgotten.)

"Nngh..."

The stalker, who had been gleefully explaining how her deduction was right, seemed to realize how little time remained, and slid her fingers into my pussy—hooking her middle and ring fingers like talons to gouge at my weak spot.

(If we'd had more time, I would have made you confess with your own mouth which positions you'd enjoy, or exactly how you'd fall once violated. What a shame.)

(Now, next question. What organization do you belong to?)

(There are only a handful of places where an elite could hide the fact that she'd been TS'd from me. Which could it be? The Committee? The Company?)

"None."

(...?)

A beat of silence fell. It was like watching a person freeze solid upon hearing an answer beyond anything they'd imagined. The cold hand stirring my pussy froze right along with her.

(Then I take it you were a freelancer, fighting monsters all on your own?)

(Tell me your name from when you were a man? An elite as exceptional as you—I'm sure I'll know it the moment I hear it.)

"Baek Hajin."

(...Who?)

For the first time, the stalker's voice went dumb. It was the voice of someone who couldn't even begin to place the name I'd just given.

(Wait—wait just a moment... Tell me the monsters you've resolved, then. That way I'll know.)

"..."

(Why aren't you answering? If you were in any position to strike a deal with me, you must have resolved plenty of monsters?)

In my head, I was screaming stop, stop on a loop. Because the stalker kept asking, unable to comprehend, and with every question she drew closer to the truth.

(There's still time left on the clock...? Don't tell me you've never resolved a single monster?)

"Yes."

(Monsters you've encountered?)

"None."

Ah.

It was all out in the open. It had been less than two minutes—barely that—and yet even that had been more than enough time for the stalker. She had laid every one of my secrets bare.

(...Ehehehehehe! Hehehehehe!)

Goosebumps crawled over my skin. The intellectual voice I'd grown used to vanished without a trace, and a laugh I had never heard from any medium—a laugh that would send even ghosts fleeing in terror—flooded the entire space. Then, abruptly, it was gone.

(Ten seconds left. How do you feel right now?)

"So scared."

(Have you considered surrendering? I'll treasure you.)

"I've considered it. I won't."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The instant the words left my mouth, the wall vanished. It disappeared with no warning whatsoever, and I lost my balance and pitched forward, slamming face and chest into the ground—but perhaps thanks to the restriction the stalker had spoken of, there was no pain at all. Only the dull sensation of having struck the earth.

The moment I hit the ground, I bolted forward, driven by the single-minded conviction that I could not be caught—and yet, strangely, the skin-crawling sensation of pursuit from behind never came. Since I couldn't stray more than ten meters away, I stood there in bewilderment, and the status window, as if intending to satisfy my curiosity, unveiled a new system.

I can't go any farther for now... so should I take a look through her eyes?

I opened the hint, too, but it was still telling me, plain as ever, to run—so I decided to see the world from the stalker's perspective instead. She was standing perfectly still despite the distance between us, which smelled like some kind of trick, but I couldn't carelessly turn my head either. The system had never once harmed me, and I needed to know what the stalker was actually doing.

Is that... me?

I'd never seen this body in a mirror, so I couldn't say for certain—but the figure was still trembling uncontrollably, its right hand bent forward as it manipulated the status window, and when I lifted my right foot, it lifted its right foot in perfect ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unison. When I wondered if it could really be me and waved my arm out to the side, it waved exactly the same. I was fairly sure it was me.

No wonder she lost her mind and pounced.

Even from behind, her chest was visible; her hips were built for childbirth, her ass sat high ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with not a hint of sag—a flawless figure. Staring at that woman's shamelessly revealing swimsuit from behind, even now, cock long gone, I caught myself thinking I'd like to violate her. So then how desperately must the stalker have wanted me—cock intact, and treated to that direct, unobstructed view the entire time?

I hadn't understood why she'd clung to me so relentlessly—but seeing it through the stalker's eyes, I finally did.

Ah. This is the stalker's point of view.

The view was so lovely that the moment I gave my ass a little sway, hoping to drink in an even lovelier sight, I remembered whose eyes I was looking through.

Damn it.

It must have looked like I was seducing her. I braced myself, certain that sexual harassment was about to come flying from behind—but strangely, the stalker simply went on staring at me, motionless.

What is this? It's giving me chills.

I kept feeling her gaze and watching to see what she would do, but all she did was watch, still as a statue. And yet, inexplicably, the skin-crawling chill only intensified, and the obsession saturating that gaze grew heavier, pounding against me like a drumbeat.

(I deliberated.)

So I stood there quietly, and just around the time I judged I'd recovered enough to make a run for it, a chilly voice drifted over from behind.

(What would it take to catch you?)

The stalker's point of view began to shift, little by little. Head bowed like that, she suddenly closed her fingers around something that had appeared out of nowhere.

(I deliberated, and deliberated. How could I seize you with absolute certainty, without a single variable?)

A uterus...?

The thing in her hand looked exactly like the uterus I'd seen on an anatomical model. It flinched and quivered at her touch—so startlingly, undeniably alive.

(And after all that deliberation, I finally understood. Within the current rules, I cannot catch you perfectly. I am confident of victory—but it is not one hundred percent.)

This feeling...

Something new had been added to the cold chill. Something sticky and hot. They hadn't canceled each other out and vanished—the chill was still there. But layered over it now was a fresh heat, as though honey had been smeared across my skin.

(If I cannot be certain of catching you within the rules—then I will defy the rules themselves.)

With that, the stalker drew one finger in a slow, smooth swipe through the pre-cum trickling down her cock—

(I will catch you.)

—and slid that finger deep inside the uterus in her palm.

Beeeep— beeeep— beeeep—

An alarm shrieked through the entire alley. It felt as though a warning against one who had transgressed was ringing out across the whole world.

At the same time, the status window sprang up, frantic with urgency—as if knowing at least this much was the only way I'd be saved.

Water Mirror? A mirror of water?

A single character had changed in the word 'Environment.' To 'Water Mirror.' And so, without even the faintest guess as to what a water mirror even was, just as I moved to read the newly amended rulebook—

The world changed. Night became day. The filthy alley had, eerily, been scoured clean, stretching on and on until its end vanished from sight. And last of all—the road itself, like a mirror, was reflecting the world upside down.